


Shower

by L122YTorch (orphan_account)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/L122YTorch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately Kirk has been failing to be the overly-dramatic, charismatic leader that the crew knows and loves. He walks as though there is a weight on his shoulders and his eyes are dark and serious. He looks tired and spends long hours in the shower. Spock has become increasingly concerned about his captain, and after waiting long enough, decides to confront him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He shared a bathroom with Spock. A fact that Jim neglected completely as his shower stretched into a second hour.

His back was against the slick surface of the shower wall. Instead of a sonic shower, he opted for real water. Standing beneath it as the mildly tempered water beat down on his head and shoulders, flowed in rivers down his arms & chest and split into tiny streams upon his fingers before falling to the floor.

He closed his eyes and listened intently to the sound of his breathing and the water cascading around him. 

He hadn’t been sleeping well. Either Jim awoke in a torrent of panic as he recalled his death or his dreams were heady with a lust for his first officer. Either way, he woke up in a strangle hold of sweat-soaked sheets. If he wasn’t screaming from the feeling of his oxygen starved lungs as he lay withering away from radiation, he was moaning into the dark quarters as he bucked against his mattress.

Heavy bags nestled beneath his spark-less blue eyes and his body felt perpetually tense. The warmth of the shower helped loosen the tight muscles in his neck and alleviate the near constant sleep-deprived headache he was experiencing.

Crystalline water droplets caressed his closed eyelids and tickled his eyelashes.

He was so engrossed in the thought of not thinking the the voice that suddenly appeared in his bathroom made his heart stumble. “Captain?”

Spock.

"Yeah…" he said, the words reaching past the humidity and the closed door into Spock’s chambers. Spock stood on the other side of the door. "Are you alright? You have been bathing for a considerable amount of time."

Shit. Fuck. How long have I been in here? Jim wondered.

Immediately he snapped the water off and stood in the shower feeling naked and exposed under the familiar questioning voice. “I uh…I’m fine,” the words sounded like a lie, even to his ears.

"I’m sorry Spock…do you need to use the bathroom?"

"No."

There was a beat of silence. Jim’s heartbeat sped up. He felt so foolish that not only had he spent a near eternity locked in the bathroom, but that Spock knew about it.

"I do wish to talk with you," Spock said. Jim grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his now prune-like body. "Yeah, sure. My quarters, two minutes," he said as his side of the bathroom door whirred open. The cold air from his room hit him square in the chest, and made his hair stand on end.

He wasn’t sure exactly where those two minutes had gone, but in precisely 120 seconds, Spock sought entry into his room. Jim was shirtless but said “yeah, sure, come in.”

Before Spock had the chance to begin speaking, his eyes swept over Jim’s shirtless body. Jim took note and immediately a rosy blush sprang to his chest and cheeks. He groped through his stuffed dresser and yanked on a shirt as soon as possible.

The shirt was black and way too tight and when Spock sat down next to him he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Immediately images of his dreams sprang to mind. He knew they weren’t dreams. He knew they were different…they were memories. Mental leftovers from the mind meld with Ambassador Spock on Delta Vega.

Suddenly he looked at Spock and realized that his friend’s cheeks were burning green. It hit him that he had been openly staring at Spock, lips parted, tongue peeking out of his bottom lip as he mentally flipped through the R rated picture book in his mind.

His heart now beat so loud that he was 90% sure Spock could physically hear it pumping blood furiously through his body. His pants felt tight, his head felt like air.

Jim cleared his throat and said “so…what’d you want to talk about Spock?” The science officer regained his expressionless mask and said carefully…”I have been concerned about you.”

Jim’s heart sputtered.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew he was failing to control his expressions as he sat next to Spock on the edge of his bed. His lips parted as Spock expressed his concern for him, the hot breath coming out in puffs, drying the saliva on the pink flesh. 

Spock was so cool beside him, he radiated coolness. It was like running your hand over an ice cube and feeling the waves of cold rolling off.

He cleared his throat. It sounded loud in the small space between them. "What are you concerned about?"

Spock blinked, his warm eyes a sharp contrast to his cool demeanor, to his cold body. 

"You have been acting…different than usual. I want to know why," he said turning his head.

Jim sighed. Again. Dammit. He looked down at the floor, tugging at his top lip with his bottom teeth.

"I uh…" he paused, considered saying that he was fine. But Spock wouldn't buy it for a second…he would just feel lied to. 

He looked back up at Spock and struggled between an answer and just ogling Spock's perfect face. He was taking too long to respond.

"I've been having trouble sleeping…" he said, cutting off Spock before he had the chance to launch a response. "Do Vulcans dream Spock?" He looked up at the other man, his eyes a swimming pool of questions and emotions.

"No," Spock responded. Jim nodded almost imperceptibly. "Well…you're half human…have you ever dreamt?"

"Yes. Once." The answer surprised Jim. He felt a hundred questions spring to his tongue but kept them steadied there. 

"It occurred after Vulcan was destroyed," Spock hesitated. Opening up on whatever level this was…was beyond his normal bounds. But Jim's eyes waited, his brows concentrated, his breath hitched. 

"I dreamt of my mother falling to her death," he said in a quiet voice. Jim closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. "I'm sorry Spock." 

A quiet beat elapsed between them. 

"Are your dreams keeping you from sleeping well?" The question was innocent, but immediately Jim's mind raced to thoughts of him rutting into Spock, his hands in his jet black hair, this lips green and bitten and swollen, sweet and sour like a ripe green apple.

His mouth watered, as if on que. He had to reign in his thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, willing down an erection that he knew wasn't going anywhere as long as Spock was sitting on his bed, less than a foot away.

"Yeah…" he croaked. "I've been having a lot of dreams lately and they've been keeping me up," he dared to look up at Spock who had the tiniest hint of concern sprawled across his features. "Jim…" "Spock, I can take care of myself. Although I appreciate the concern," he was throwing his walls up. 

"What have you been dreaming of?" Spock asked, pushing past the flimsy boundaries just erected. 

Hesitant ocean eyes glanced over the slim, muscular body next to him. There were two dreams in particular that were robbing him of his sleep. Somehow it seemed like the easier option to tell Spock the dream that didn't involve him snapping his hips into Spock's quiet slick heat….

"Jim?"

He fought the urge to wring his hands together, so instead he placed them beside his body on the bed. Unfortunately that lessened the space between them. 

"I dream a lot about…when I died," he said, the words coming out like a whisper. He looked over at Spock whose face fell into an even deeper solemnity. 

"I try not to dwell on that event," Spock said, nearly broken. 

"It's okay Spock…I'll be okay…I always am," he smiled but it was fake. It felt fake.

"I can't imagine not dreaming," he said nearly inaudibly to himself. "I fail to see the purpose of dreaming," Spock responded instantly. 

He looked up and smiled. This time it was genuine. He loves how Spock questions things. Well, right now he loves it. Sometimes he hates it, wants to punch him in the face for his perpetual insistence when it comes to his driving curiosity. 

But in this moment it makes Jim's eyes sparkle. "Dreams are important Spock…they're how humans can…deal with things, process things…" he said, his eyes darkening as he reached the end of the sentence, as if in realization. 

"What is there about your death that you need to process?" Spock asked, confused. "I uh…I don't know. Dreams are also influenced by traumatic events. God…I just wish it didn't feel so real…" he admitted, dropping his head in his hands. 

As soon as the words came out of his throat, he realized he probably said too much. 

He quickly lifted his head out of his hands and felt like he was gravitating towards Spock. Spock. Spock. Always Spock. On the bridge and in his head…curled into his dreams like the fist the commander had wrapped around his neck that day on the bridge.

Jim's control was slipping, it was being sucked into the vortex created by Spock's eyes.

"You're in my dreams all the time," he said, realizing that his face was perfectly level with his First Officer's, the breath of the latter skimming across his skin. 

His features screamed vulnerability, his eyes trained on Spock's lips. 

"Do you know what I wanted more than anything in that moment…when I laid there dying?" He saw a wildfire of emotion burning beneath Spock's cool skin. "All I wanted was to feel the skin of your hand against mine."

He careened dangerously close to Spock, his skin longed for the same touch now in this moment, just as it had then. He breathed hard, his erection straining uncomfortably against his pants. Usually when he felt this way he escaped to his quarters, to his shower, and washed away the thoughts and the memories and the tension. But there was no escaping.

Against all logic, ignoring the screaming voice in his head to stop, he raised his right hand, like a street guard telling vehicles to stop..and he spread his fingers into a Vulcan salute.

Spock didn't hesitate for a moment…he brought his hand up to meet Jim's. 

Jim let a sound slip from his mouth that he didn't even recognize as his own. Relief and lust and exhaustion and desperation flooded out of him with that one singular sound. Touching Spock's hand like this was like sticking your finger into an electrical socket. Something clicked in Jim's mind but he didn't even have time to realize it before Spock's hand was gone.

The Vulcan was doing a terrible job of concealing the shock in his eyes. Jim panicked. Spock was on his feet.

"I do hope that you can get better rest Captain," Spock said in a tone that reached but failed to sound normal.

Spock couldn't take it. The way Jim looked in that moment…so raw and vulnerable and…what he had felt when their hands met was indescribable. All of Jim's thoughts ran screaming through his mind. And in them were things he wasn't prepared for.

"Spock…" he said in a shattered tone. 

"I must retire for the evening," Spock said, forcing his body to turn and disappear into their shared bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim's heart sank, a nauseated desperation curling into his stomach. He wanted Spock to turn around so bad, to come back. 

He sat there, on the edge of his bed with a pulsing erection and a broken ego. 

He remained there, motionless, his fists balled tightly into themselves and pressing into the mattress. His blue eyes glanced over at the door into his bathroom.

That's it. That's all that separated them; a bathroom. He let out a huff of a chuckle as he considered what a perfect metaphor it was. They were so close, yet so far apart. A bathroom away, but a world away. And his chest ached with how desperately he wanted to be closer. 

The vulnerability in Jim's thoughts and actions scared him. 

He considered standing, pacing, getting ready for bed. But he feared that if he walked into the bathroom, he wouldn't be able to resist walking through Spock's side of the door. 

He felt like a damn kid, like a foolish teenager who couldn't get his way. He was angry and frustrated and confused; emotions that he had felt more and more since his death. 

He slammed his eyes shut and listened to his breathing. The more he tried to ignore the pounding heat pressing against his pants, the harder he got.

Typically the captain would do his best to keep the content of his dreams (involving Spock) locked away in his memories. He tried not to pull on them, not to summon them. 

But his hand stung, it tingled and tickled, and when he concentrated, it was like he could still feel Spock's hand pressed up against his. The touch, it was like a drug, and it lit something on fire inside of him that he had only previously felt in his dreams. 

Something was waking up inside of Jim and it was his greatest fear that Spock would shut it down, take it away.

He let that same hand press firmly against his straining length. A low moan rumbled past his lips and with clumsy fingers he undid the button on his pants and slid down the zipper. He turned onto his bed on his belly, a hand snaked down into his pants, pushing past the fabric of his boxers.

It was like the moment before deciding to jump off a cliff - there was no stopping - this was a slippery slope and his resolve was gone. He conjured up the images that haunted his dreams, setting his mind adrift in a crashing ocean of tangled limbs, teeth and lips and moans of pleasure.

His hot breath gathered in his pillow and added to the sweat already budding on his face. Jim gulped down feelings of guilt and focused on the memory of Spock stretching out inside of him. 

It was the first dream he ever had of them together like that. It stood out vividly in his mind, the memories springing to life in a torrent of emotions and sensations. 

Spock was on him, in him, filling him to the brim, until his balls bucked against his body. They were face to face, slick black bangs hanging above his head as his body was rocked back and forth. 

His hand moved faster, rougher, twisting as it reached the head, gathering the liquid that had formed there and using it to move even faster. He rolled on his back with a thud.

Spock's lips were kiss bitten, a single drop of green blood trickling down his chin from a tiny cut Jim had sliced into his plump lips with his sharp eye tooth. They rocked together, the bed groaning in protest, obscene noises slipping past his and Spock's mouths. 

His starving hands grasped at Spock's cool body, wanting more, needing more. He heard himself say the word "more" in his dreams, and said it again now, into his room as he arched his back and rolled his eyes into his head. 

He was here in this reality, but he wasn't…was he moaning into his dream, or was it out loud? His whole body shuddered as his balls drew together. "Spock…" he pleaded into the air. 

The Vulcan looked down at him through hooded lids. His eyes were black with lust and affection. "Come with me Spock." The Vulcan's eyes fell closed, his head lowered, as if he couldn't take it.

He bucked his dick into his hands, and every nerve in his body begged for release. 

"Th'y'la. I am always with you," Spock answered. He had misconstrued the word, yet his answer was priceless. 

Spock pounded into Jim, his double headed dick hitting Jim's prostate at every swipe, making him see stars. He arced up, smearing his sweaty forehead against Spock's. "Th'y'la" the words came pouring out of his mouth as his orgasm pulsed against his still clothed chest. 

He rode the waves of orgasm until they ebbed, and ceased. His eyes were closed, a hand still around his spent cock, it was Spock's hand. Spock was above him, mouth parted, looking into his soul. 

When he opened his eyes and was met with the sight of the ceiling, he was overcome with the feeling of loss. The silence of the room sat like a dead weight on his chest and squeezed at his heart. 

He was so tired….but dreaded sleep.

Spock was with Uhura…he had to let this go. He had to let these feelings for Spock go. 

Jim turned on his side, facing the wall and was startled by the devastation he felt creeping down his spine.

\---------

Walking away from Jim was … more than hard. But Spock reasoned that it was only logical to pause the situation for further reflection. 

He wasn't prepared for the onslaught of Jim's raw emotions, especially not the amount of desire he felt bleeding past his shields.

His mind couldn't make sense of why it had felt so difficult to leave the room. Jim's voice, his plea in the form of Spock's name nearly shattered his resolve.

He paused, then continued forward into their shared bathroom, then his room, each door swooshing open and then closed.

He felt uneasy, emotional, beside himself. He sat on his bed and attempted to calm his mind, to clear his emotions, but he found it exceedingly difficult.

The electric current that passed between their touching hands illuminated the fine webs of what Spock knew could be a strong bond. His mind reached towards Jim, uncurling it's neuron laced fingers towards the golden light of his captain. 

It startled him. He pulled away, extracted himself from a situation that was barreling towards emotional instability. He couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe.

What he didn't expect was to be startled once again; this time as he sat in his room, deep in reflection.

His better-than-average Vulcan hearing heard Jim breathing heavily. He gulped and re-focused, feeling ill at the thought of intruding on his Captain's privacy.

But a moan cracked through the nearly solid rock of meditation that Spock had erected. It resonated in his body, sending a shot of arousal straight to his groin.

He made an attempt to steady his breathing, to center his mind, but he was failing. He heard a whisper of his name. He wished he could deny it, think that he heard wrong, but he knew he didn't. It was his name whispered between the moans of a man, of his best friend, who was pleasuring himself in the room next to his. 

Only by force of will did Spock manage to suppress a moan. A weak erection had bloomed into a desperate pounding that sought release.

In vain he wished that he couldn't hear so well. He shifted on the mat lying on the floor of his bedroom. A botched attempt at meditation. He felt frustrated despite his arousal. He didn't ask for this.

Rich brown eyes flicked over to the bathroom door.

His heart continued to beat wildly in his side and nearly came to a stop as he heard one word bleed through the double set of doors that separated their rooms…"T'hy'la."


	4. Chapter 4

Jim of course had no way of realizing what Spock had heard through the reinforced walls that separated their rooms. Therefore it was only logical to leave the events unacknowledged. It had been three days since their hands had touched in Jim's room.

Spock never asked for such an attachment to his captain. In fact, the feelings he harbored made him feel somewhat ashamed. Never had he been so … vulnerable towards another life form. Not even Nyota Uhura. 

It was clear two months ago that Spock must terminate that relationship, and he did exactly that. His admiration and feelings towards her had always remained the same…stagnant…they never changed or grew. But his feelings for Jim were ever-changing.

He thought of these things as he made his way tot he bridge, his footsteps falling loudly with each step. He turned the corner and ended up the familiar, bright white room. The bridge was relatively quiet. 

Checkov was going to say something to Spock but decided against it when he noticed the Vulcan's positively sour disposition. 

Spock felt angry and he didn't know why. Which only made him more angry. He pushed back against his emotions but they seemed to continually resurface. He couldn't even successfully meditate this morning. 

"G'morning Spock," Jim said with a tiny half smile. The captain was absolutely emanating "normalcy." But it had the exact opposite effect, only ramping up the awkward tension clinging to the space between them. 

"Good morning captain," Spock returned coldly, before turning and sitting at his station. 

Jim cleared his throat and picked up his PADD. There wasn't too much going on at the moment, it was going to be a slow week, and Jim wasn't sure he could handle spending too much time in his own head.

The shift went by slowly but smoothly. It was nearly over before Jim decided to try and involve Spock in a conversation. Some of the tension had melted away (or so he thought) and so he approached the Vulcan. This time with a smile that was warm, and not just warmed over.

"Having fun Spock?" Jim jested. 

Spock was most definitely not having fun. He spent a third of his shift actually focused on work, and the other two thirds trying to make sense of the events that transpired between himself and Jim. 

He nearly had it with relationships all together. Without friendships or relationships he calculated that he'd be 12% more efficient at his work at 20% more mentally and emotionally stable.

"Certainly not," he answered his captain, eyes still glued to his PADD. Jim's jaw tightened, his eyes growing sad. "I was just kidding Spock…I know it's been kind of slow lately." "On the contrary," Spock said. "Being at warp gives us a great opportunity to conduct research and file reports." 

Jim stood above his first officer, his hands on his hips, and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Well, maybe you want to take a break from all that and grab a bite to eat…with Bones and myself?

"I'm not hungry," Spock answered, the tone of the words like a cold slap of concrete. It was nearly a growl. 

Jim's eyes scanned over Spock, who finally relented and looked back at his captain. The bright baby blue eyes shifted nervously beneath drawn eyebrows that reflected a depth of grief Spock was unprepared to see.

It was really stupid, but in that moment, Jim felt like he was losing Spock. Like he shot up their friendship with a phaser three days ago it was doomed to die. The thought of losing Spock's friendship made his blood run cold, and drew liquid to his eyes. He felt such panic that he had done irreparable damage to their relationship.

Every ounce of anger Spock harbored immediately dissipated upon seeing Jim's face…so sad and broken. And he put that expression there, he caused that reaction, it was his fault.

"Maybe next time," Jim said in a whisper, cutting off whatever Spock was about to say, his soft alien lips parted and paused, his expression softened.

The captain disappeared off the bridge and the next shift's crew began shuffling in. He knew that the crew had witnessed the interaction. He knew they knew that something was…off. He could feel the judgement in their gazes. 

Spock realized now that he hadn't just turned down Jim's offer for dinner…he…brushed him off…sent him away. He wondered if the subtleties of human interaction would forever escape him. 

He hoped not. 

It was the first time in three days that Jim had made a real attempt to move forward with their friendship and Spock just slammed the metaphorical door shut in his face.

Immediately, he regretted it.

\-----------------

The shower water was bracingly hot. Jim let the liquid slide across his skin, leaving the flesh beneath a screaming shade of red. 

He and Spock hadn't really spoken for three days and today, when he gathers up his bravery and attempts to launch back into his commander's orbit, he crashed and burned. 

After the brief conversation, Jim went to dinner with Bones, to keep up appearances. But the second he was done eating he was taking long strides towards his quarters. In a flurry he was in his room, peeling clothes off before the door had even locked. He left a trail of garnets on the floor leading to the shower.

Once inside, beneath the steady stream of steaming water, he took deep breaths, practically able to feel his breath cutting through the humidity around him. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor was soothing. When he closed his eyes and listened, it reminded him of rain. He thought that if he didn't have such a miserable childhood…he might actually miss Earth.

It'd be nice to have something to miss…other than Spock. Something to think about…other than Spock. But he knew that all he wanted to think about was Spock. To feel the other man's hand against his again, or on his face, or sliding down his body. 

The want was overwhelming…the need was suffocating. Jim's back slid against the shower wall, he wished it had a texture. Something for his skin to rub against, a sensation to ground him in this moment and get him out of his own head. 

These lengthy showers…he used them to wash the day off, to recompose himself, but he felt as though this shower was having the very opposite effect. He chuckled to himself as he thought of what a train wreck all of this was.

If he was failing to lose himself in this scalding hot shower, then he should probably get out before his skin began to cook. Still, the intense heat and heavy steam felt so good as it beat down on his broad shoulders and fell along the curve of his spine. 

Maybe the shower was helping after all. For once he managed to not jack off to the thought of Spock. He never thought he'd be relieved by this…but for the last few nights he had been largely unable to sleep. He wasn't startled awake with visions of dying or the overwhelming feelings of grief and loss. He just stayed in the gray space between wake and sleep, and surprisingly, he wasn't too tired.

"Captain," the voice once again cut through the locked door and through the thick air of the steamed bathroom. It startled Jim out of his thoughts. He reached a bright red arm out and turned off the shower. The water came to a halt, it's soothing noise disappearing into solid silence.

"Yes?" Jim asked, surprised that Spock would interrupt his private time. "When you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you," the voice returned. "My quarters?" Spock asked. "Uh, sure," Jim said, scrambling out of the shower and toweling off at super speed. He picked up the pants lying on the bathroom floor and struggled to slip them on past still wet legs. 

He hopped around a bit and finally made it to the door. It whooshed open and what felt like arctic air flew over the hot red flesh of his bare chest. His shirt hadn't made it to the bathroom and he didn't want to wait to hear whatever it was Spock wanted to say, so he launched into Spock's room wearing his uniform pants and still toweling of his dripping hair.

Spock looked surprised, taken off guard. "Well, that was fast," Spock ventured. "I must admit that I had expected you to get dressed first." "Sorry," Jim said, entering the room. God he was so awkward. You'd think the captain of an entire star ship wouldn't be so friggin awkward. 

"I'm surprised that you want to talk to me," Jim said, going out on a limb. "From our short conversation earlier, I thought you were mad at me." Spock's expression shifted, but Jim couldn't tell exactly what emotion had just scurried across the man's features.

"That is why I wanted to talk to you captain." "Dear god man…it's Jim," he said exasperated. 

"Jim…I never meant to hurt your feelings." 

"I know Spock."

"You do?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Jim's flesh was still sun burn red and the situation at hand wasn't exactly helping to cool him down.

He rubbed the back of his neck, digging his short nails into the soft hairs at the bottom of his head. 

"I don't want to lose your friendship," he confessed in a near whisper, eyes looking not exactly at Spock's chest, but past him, to his own thoughts. "If I shared too much with you the other day Spock…I'm sorry…"

"You have nothing to apologize for," the Vulcan said, moving closer to Jim, eyebrows drawn together. "You did not share too much with me Jim. I was simply unprepared…" "For what?" "For what I felt when I touched your hand. I had my shields up, but could still feel the weight of your emotions."

Jim gulped, his stomach turned. Touch telepath…fuck. He…didn't even consider that when he brought his hand up, an invitation for Spock's touch. Suddenly his skin felt much hotter. 

"Are you alright Jim?" Spock asked, aware of what Jim was only just now realizing. "Your skin is particularly red," he reached a hand up as if to touch, but stopped just short of Jim's collar bone.

There were just about a thousand things Jim wanted to say and ask and do, but in that moment all he wanted was the touch of the other man. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he decided to take a step forward before Spock had the time to retract the hand. But he moved forward so slowly that Spock could back out if he wanted. But he didn't.

The fingers touched against the reddened flesh of Jim's collarbone. They tingled against his skin. "We are still friends, right Spock?" "Yes," Spock answered without hesitation, giving a slight nod and a gentle squeeze of the hand still on Jim. Then the hand disappeared, the flesh beneath feeling suddenly too cold.

"I … there's so much I wish I could say to you Spock …" Jim said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then why don't you?" 

Jim shifted uncomfortably. He didn't have an answer ready to give his first officer. 

"Is it because of my involvement with Nyota?" 

Jim's eyes snapped up to meet his friend's, the look in them questioning.

"I am no longer romantically involved with Nyota." 

"Wha…? When did that happen?" 

"Approximately two months ago," Spock answered. Jim lent forward, disbelief in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?!" 

"I didn't realize until recently that it was information worth sharing." 

Jim's stance had become defensive. He huffed, turned towards the bathroom door. He tried to see things from Spock's perspective. Clearly the man did not understand what "friendship" entailed. 

"Spock…that's the kind of thing that you can tell your friend," Jim finally said.

"I realize that now," Spock responded softly. He knew that he had hurt Jim by not telling him. The captain looked angry, his chest rose and fell quickly. "I…." Jim killed the premature sentence with a sigh of disbelieve. He was so angry that he was pacing. He wanted to strangle Spock, or punch him. 

He moved closer to Spock, anger etched into his features, his fists balled up in frustration. Spock didn't move, he just let his captain walk right up to him with a burning intensity. Jim stopped, only inches from his face, and paused. He stood perfectly still for a minute and then slipped a hand behind Spock's hand that was resting at Spock's side. 

He felt Jim's touch lightly brush down his palm and then the pads of Jim's fingers were on his, and a flurry of electric sparks traveled between them. Jim's forehead was against Spock's now, his breath flitting across Spock's lips. His fingers were sliding so minutely against Spock's. 

Jim was kissing him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Jim…” Spock said in a strained whisper, “you are aware that you are kissing me, correct?” 

The captain smiled and nodded. He appreciated the way Spock’s skin felt against his own, the way the arched fingerprints of his fingertips slid so easily into place. But just as he had begun to savor the rich flutter of tingles that shot through his hand, to his soul, the touch was gone.

In his own haze of lust and love he failed to read Spock’s face. And by the looks of it, the Vulcan wasn’t thrilled. He seemed withdrawn and had taken a step back.

Jim’s stomach instantly did half a dozen flips. A steaming wave of embarrassment threatened to crash down on him at any moment. 

“I…I thought you said that you weren’t in a relationship with Nyota anymore.”

“I am not.”

“So why did you pull away from my hand?” Kirk boldly asked.

“Just because I am no longer romantically involved with Nyota, does not necessarily mean that I am prepared for a relationship with you.”

The words felt like a slap in the face. The captain’s mind went reeling; his mouth was slightly open but devoid of words.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and took a step back. 

“I’m sorry Spock,” Jim said. “I thought that you felt the same way I did.”

“How do you feel?” Spock asked.

But Jim had already put too much on the line and been rejected, he wasn’t about to pour his heart out on the floor.

“Never mind,” Jim said, shaking his head, feeling absurdly foolish. 

Had he fabricated the idea that Spock returned his affection? Maybe he had. Maybe he wanted it so bad that he was forcing something that didn’t exist.

Jim looked absolutely crushed. He tried to hide the sadness behind his long, shower-wet lashes, but was failing. The desolation was evident in the depths of his sparkling blue eyes.

“I should go,” Jim turned to head back to his quarters. “I’m sorry Spock,” he uttered, regretting it immediately since it was the second time in five minutes he had apologized.

“Wait,” Spock said, causing Jim to half turn back. “I wish to know how you feel.”

“Oh come on Spock…” Jim huffed, exasperated. “I just Vulcan kissed you, how do you think I feel?” 

“I do not presume to know how anyone feels unless they explicitly tell me,” Spock said, innocently, inquisitively. It was as if he was a child holding a microscope to an anthill in search of scientific answers, all the while frying the shit out of the ants.

The commander waited for a response but none came. His captain merely stood in the open doorway to the bathroom; his chest and face flush red and his body still dripping from the steaming shower.

“It was one thing for me to have a relationship with Nyota…” Spock said hesitantly, breaking the silence in the stuffy room. “We began our courtship before we were assigned to the Enterprise, and maintaining that relationship while seeing one another every day was not easy.”

Jim’s face scrunched a little. “What is the point of you telling me this?” Jim asked.

Spock gulped and folded his hands behind his back.

“Our dynamic is crucial to the operation of this ship captain.”

A look of realization flashed across the human’s features. “Are you saying that you don’t want to get involved with me because it may not be good for the ship?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“So it’s not because you’re not interested in me?”

Spock’s eyes wandered to a corner in the room. He needed time to examine his own feelings, to think about all of this. “I have never considered becoming romantically involved with a male,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I do care for you deeply,” he said almost inaudibly, as if he were ashamed of his own emotions.

“I cannot lose our friendship,” Spock said after a minute of silence. A pained expression flitted across his angular features as he remembered the feeling of losing Captain Kirk once already.

“I understand,” Jim said, nodding slowly. “Don’t want to lose a friendship if a relationship doesn’t work out. Very logical.”

He gripped the doorframe and looked Spock over as his fingernails scratched the metal. Heartache flowed over him and made it feel as though his blood was running cold. It wasn’t until he was told he couldn’t have what he wanted…that he realized just how badly he wanted it. 

“I should have come to you, talked to you, figured things out more before…” Jim stopped, his eyes glancing over at Spock’s hand, the hand that he just Vulcan kissed.

“Anyway…” he cleared his throat again, but it didn’t get rid of the lump that now lived there. “…have a good night, get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The blonde turned and walked towards his own room. The doors whooshed shut behind him.

As soon as he was safely within the confines of his space he let out a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

It wouldn’t be possible to put into words just how stupid he felt. He felt so epically f*#&@!% stupid that he slapped the palm of his hand into his face so hard that it hurt.

Shit, he was James T. Kirk, the smoothest motherfucker in the galaxy. And yet, around Spock, he was a floundering mess, making all the wrong moves. All of his charm, wit and experience must’ve gone down the drain with the shower water.

He needed to get over this and fast.

Forget the embarrassment, forget his feelings for Spock, and forget that the last week had ever even happened. 

Maybe Spock was right, their dynamic, their friendship, was too important to alter, especially in the beginning of a five-year mission. Jim had no problem seeing the logic in Spock’s argument, but that didn’t take the sting out of it.

The way he felt about Spock was unparalleled, it was like nothing he had ever experienced, and if he let it go…he may never find anything like it again.

“I’m so fucked,” he said as he dove headfirst onto his bed like a teenager, burying his face in the pillow. He gripped the damn thing so hard that he ripped it. 

Alternating waves of rejection, embarrassment and sadness rolled over him throughout the night. He didn’t sleep. He just lay on his ripped pillow, atop a damp cover in his dress pants and stared into the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to continue! Very busy! Changed careers and I have an art show in two weeks, ahhhh!!!!! Thanks for your support :D

The next day, Jim Kirk felt like shit, but he was too prideful to let it show. So he took a cold shower in the morning, drank an excess of coffee and convinced himself that he should be determined to appear as unaffected as ever.

There was no point in stewing in heartbreak. The very short possibly romantic excursion with Spock was just a detour, a flight plan that resulted in a stalled aircraft. And it left him with two options: crash and burn, or recover. 

He chose recovery, but it was a battle. He had to forcefully push thoughts of Spock out of his mind, he had to swallow the hurt and longing that lingered in a lump in his throat. But he was the fucking captain, and he had no business being distracted. 

So he looked sharp as shit as he stepped onto the bridge in the wee hours of the morning. The night crew was still shuffling out of the space and the main crew greeted him as they trickled in. 

Jim didn't need to turn his head to know when Spock had arrived. He could feel his presence, like a magnet in a forcefield. He could feel the heat of Spock's gaze, recognize the familiar footfall of the Vulcan. 

Once Spock was seated (not having greeted Jim yet), the captain swiveled to his side and smiled at the first officer. "Good morning Commander Spock," Jim said, chipper as could be, his blue eyes glowing beneath the bright white lights. 

"Good morning captain," Spock said cooly. He was bewildered at the captain's unfazed attitude. Why, just last night Jim seemed to be in a considerable amount of emotional distress. Perhaps the captain was feigning normalcy, or maybe…maybe Jim's feelings for him didn't run as deep as he thought.

As the latter option occurred to Spock, he felt his stomach twist. A pang of some very human emotion rocked his resolve. He wouldn't even put a name to the emotion, he wouldn't even acknowledge it. If he was going to get through this shift and every shift that followed, he would have to disassociate himself with his feelings toward the human.

Nothing, especially not romance, was worth risking the integrity of the Enterprise. No affair of the heart could be worth risking their indelible friendship. Logic screamed at Spock that his feelings for Jim were wholly illogical, and he tried his best to listen.

But it was far from easy.

Although not a hair was out of place, and no bags resided beneath his eyes, Spock felt drained. He hadn't slept at all the night before. Even his attempts at meditation had failed due to being constantly interrupted by the memory of Jim's moans, by the sensation that his captain's touch had left behind.

He didn't ask for this, for any of it. He was Vulcan. He was above such trifle affairs. He saw his own distress as a sign of pathetic weakness, and he was disgusted with himself.

But despite everything that was going on, both officers maintained focus throughout the shift. And no other crew members suspected that anything was off between them. No, they were too busy gleefully chatting about what activities they'd take part in when they reached Thorg for shore leave.

The whole ship was buzzing with bubbly enthusiasm. It seemed as though everyone was counting the minutes to reach Thorg, everyone except Spock. Even Jim had a broad smile plastered on his face. He gave some advice to young Checkov about drinking too much and swapped shore leave stories with Uhura. 

The happier, the more normal Jim seemed, the more irritated Spock felt. His reactions were most curious and undoubtedly warranted some internal reflection, but he would reserve that for shore leave.

At warp 5 they reached Thorg by dusk. The time went quickly for Spock, but trickled by painfully slow for everyone else. The hour was late, but the sun hadn't set. The night was young, and everyone was ready to take advantage of it, save for Spock. Once the ship was securely in orbit, crew members began to beam down to the planet's lush surface. 

Thorg was a sight to behold. The city where the crew beamed down for leave is called Thornto. And it is nothing less of magical. Bioluminescent buildings made entirely of plant material tower above the bustling streets. It's as if a city planted itself in the jungle and was made of the jungle itself. The people lived to sustain their planet, and their planet thrived in accommodating the people. Thorgans were inextricably tied to their planet, to nature, and it was a concept almost foreign to the humans, but they loved it. 

Steadily the ship was drained of it's inhabitants, save for a skeleton crew, and now it was high command's turn to beam down. 

The crew had never taken shore leave here before, and as each member of the Enterprise materialized, they looked around in awe of the city and it's breathtaking inhabitants. The Thorgans had pearl-like soft pink skin. In the light some of them would shimmer a white color, while others shimmered orange and yellow. Their eyes were large, deep brown, and child-like. There was such a warmth that communicated through their demeanor that it was easy to feel right at home. 

The shore leave crew was almost entirely beamed down, almost. 

Jim packed a small bag and headed for the transporter room. As he turned a corner he nearly ran into Spock. Both of them stopped in their tracks and awkwardly looked at one another. Finally Jim cleared his throat and asked, "headed to the transporter?" 

"Affirmative," Spock replied, walking once more, away from Jim. But to no avail - Jim caught up to his friend and shot him a smile. "Look Spock…I know things between us have been…off…but, I don't want that to affect our shore leave or our friendship."

Spock said nothing, he just continued to walk, but Jim could sense the wheels turning in his head.

"I mean, the whole reason you don't want a relationship is because it'll jeopardize our friendship right?" Jim nearly whispered, but still, the Vulcan shot him a disapproving look at touching the subject in public - even if the ship was nearly empty. 

"Well, we should work to keep that friendship in tact. Right?"

"Our friendship is indeed intact captain," Spock said as they both made their way down the sterile white hallway. 

"Is it?" Jim asked. 

"Anyway, I just want you to enjoy your shore leave and put all of this behind you."

"Have you put it behind you?" Spock asked, mentally admonishing himself the moment the words left his lips. 

"Well, that is what you want isn't it?"

Spock was unsure of how to respond. His feelings for Jim were unbreakable and growing ever stronger. It frightened him. He had never been involved romantically with another male, which also frightened him. And certainly it would be frowned upon for the captain and his first officer to be in a relationship. None of it was logical. It couldn't possibly be worth the risk, could it?

"FINALLY," Scotty said as the two officers made it into the transport room. "What took you two so long?! I thought I'd hafta beam down without ya. Well, what ayre you starin at? You comin or not?" 

"Yeah, of course," Jim said, walking quickly to the platform. Spock followed, standing next to his captain. It was as if he belonged there - next to Jim. Like it was his first and only destiny. What would his answer have been if Scotty hadn't cut off their conversation? Did he really want Jim to get over the recent events between them? 

If he didn't want Jim to "get over it" he had better let Jim know. The captain wasn't shy of indulging in physical pleasure on shore leave. 

Suddenly Spock pictured a Thorgan woman wrapped around Jim's naked body and the idea sent a fresh wave of furious jealousy coursing through his chest. 

"Ready to have some fun Spock?" Jim said with a smile. 

"That is precisely what I am afraid of," Spock said, keeping his gaze straight ahead. 

Jim's eyebrows knitted in confusion but there was no time for clarification - they dematerialized. 

In an instant they were standing on sweet smelling, aqua-colored grass, looking up at organic buildings that touched the purple sky. Thorgans littered the busy sidewalks as hover crafts zipped through the streets. It was the Thorgan equivalent to the weekend, so the party vibe emanated through the bustling metropolis. The glowing city, the pearlescent skin of the Thorgans, the spicy sweet scents that filled the air, the massive moon that loomed over the planet, the feel of warm air hitting their faces - it was a lot to take in. And it was all good.

"Jim!" Bones shouted over the noisy crowd, appearing out of nowhere, "Finally, I found you! A local told me about a fantastic bar, we've got to go!"

"Haha, okay Bones," Jim said as the doctor pulled on his arm. They got a few steps out and then Bones turned around. "You guys coming?" he asked Spock and Scotty who looked at one another and then back at Bones. "Sure!" Scotty volunteered for both of them. They trailed behind the enthusiastic doctor and his captive, taking in the sights as they headed down the sidewalk. 

It seemed as though Jim was garnering an unusual amount of attention from the local females (and a few males). They stared at him and giggled as he passed.

"What's the deal?" Jim asked Bones as the four of them approached the bar. "Whatare you complaining?" Bones asked incredulously. "No, no! I'm just wondering why everyone's staring at me." 

"You're a lucky man captain," Bones replied, "Thorg doesn't get many visitors, and many of the Thorgans have never seen a blonde-haired human. You're going to be very popular Jim." 

The captain laughed and looked over at Spock who was now standing beside him. 

"Did you hear that Spock? I'm going to be very popular," the captain's voice dropped and he grinned mischievously before entering the sea of aliens in the bar. 

It was meant as a dig. It was meant to incite jealousy within Spock. But what it sparked instead was fury.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite being in a quadrant of space far from home, the crew felt right at home on Thorg. The indigenous species was friendly, the music was good, the food was delectable and the surroundings were so breathtakingly beautiful that there was no room for complaints.

Everyone on shore leave was having the time of their life, except Spock. But his stoic facial features gave no sign of his internal…distress.

"Isn't this place spectacular Jim?" Bones asked, slapping his captain on the back. 

And it was. The ground had sprouted the material for the building, so the walls were the same rich aqua color of the grass. Intricate murals abounded on nearly every wall, and the dim lighting shimmered off the skin of the Thorgans. They only wore the bare necessities when it came to clothes - a fact that Scotty, Kirk and Bones were coming to appreciate.

The music was loud but deep, rhythmic, methodic almost. Just watching the Thorgans dance to it was a sight to behold. They moved with such grace and skill that one might postulate that they were born to dance.

The Thorgans were beautiful, muscular creatures. Their skin seemed to glimmer with pearl-essence, their smiles were warm, their conversation enthusiastic. They had pointed ears, like the Vulcans, but they were smaller. Rich forest green hair cascaded down the backs of most of the females. While more rare Thorgans had teal and violet hair. The men's heads were all but shaved - just a hint of stubble atop their head that transitioned down into stubble on their face. 

But most stunning were their huge, hypnotizing purple eyes. They tilted slightly up and were fanned with long sumptuous eyelashes. 

Any human, any specie, would be damn lucky to befriend one of these tall opulent creatures. 

Which is why Kirk gushed inwardly at all the attention he was getting - from males and females alike. Many Thorgans approached him at the bar, batting their fan-like eyelashes and hanging on every word that came out of Kirk's mouth. To them, he, Scotty and Bones were exotic, while Spock seemed a more familiar stranger.

Currently, Jim was laughing with a beautiful woman over a navy cocktail. She giggled and drew closer as he continued with a story of bravery and triumph fit for a captain. Bones was off chatting up a beautiful creature, and Scotty had already made it on to the dance floor. 

So Spock sat and watched as his captain whisked his young suitor away to the dance floor. 

The crew spent most of their time dancing away and Spock found it an opportune time to sit and reflect. 

The rage that so violently reared it's head earlier had died down. He managed to collect himself and remind himself that he had in fact turned Kirk away. But what Jim failed to realize was why, why Spock had turned him away. 

The Vulcan took a sip of the blue concoction, despite the fact that the dink had no effect on him. His dark eyes scanned the dance floor and soon found Jim, as if his captain were a magnet whose pull he could not escape. 

But the girl Jim had giggled and flirted with earlier was not dancing with him. In her place was a Thorgan male. The being was tall, about 6'6, and his skin shimmered pearl and purple beneath the lights. A dusting of teal hair covered his shaved head and jawline. He wore very little clothes, which let his chiseled muscular frame take the spotlight. But even the muscles held nothing to his beautiful violet eyes. They seemed lighter than the other Thorgan's eyes. 

He swayed with Jim.

It had gotten rather late and the music slowed it's pace. 

Suddenly, the jealousy that Spock had put to bed earlier was startlingly awoken. It spiked like a jolt of electricity in his side and spread throughout his body. He stood, before he even knew what his next course of action was.

He sliced through the crowd, the image of Jim and this stranger becoming ever clearer. But before he reached the gyrating duo, he stopped. He stopped and he fought an internal war within himself.

Being the only unmoving creature on the dance floor, it was easy for Jim to lift his heavy eyelids and spot his first officer. 

Spock stood stone still, about two yards away from Kirk. Emotion raged beneath his usually stolid mask and threatened to bubble over, but Spock wouldn't allow it. 

Through the darkness Jim tried to read his friend's face. He sought the answers to the ever present mystery that was Spock's facial expressions, but he was just too tired. The alcohol and the music and the strong arms that held him brought Jim Kirk to a level of relaxation that he seldom experienced.

So rather than think, he decided to politely part with the beautiful Thorgan and walk towards Spock. But Spock was already walking away. He followed the familiarity of the shrinking blue shirt as it drifted towards the club's exit. 

"Spock…hey…wait up," Jim shouted as he reached the street and jogged towards his friend. 

Spock stopped and turned to face Jim.

"What is your problem?" Jim asked, out of breath. 

"I do not have a problem," Spock said matter-of-factly.

"The hell you don't!" Jim shouted.

"Look Spock, you can't have it both ways. You can't reject my advances towards you and yet expect me to remain forever single!" 

"Single," Spock repeated. "So you are seeking a serious relationship with that Thorgan?"

An awkward silence passed between them.

"It doesn't matter what I'm seeking with Vlick because you lost your right to have a say in it!"

"Was that the point of coming here Jim? To make me jealous? To hurt my feelings?"

"OH, so you have feelings now?!"

Spock scowled, stepping closer to Jim. His eyes were boiling with rage and his fists were clenched so tightly that green veins bulged out from them. A shot of panic leapt through Jim's body at the sight of a 210 lb. angry Vulcan getting so close to his face.

"For being as intelligent as you are James T. Kirk, it never ceases to amaze me how childish and foolish you can be."

Kirk returned the invasion of space, getting even closer to Spock, whose toes he now touched with his own. 

"And for being as intelligent as you are Spock, it never ceases to amaze me how stunted you are when it comes to putting logic aside and taking what you really want. Do you even know what you want?"

Before Spock had the chance to answer the question, Jim was turned and walking away - back into the club. 

Spock watched as his golden form grew smaller and disappeared inside the door he had so recently emerged from.

WIth his fists still clenched he turned and headed toward the Thorgan lodge that would house the crew for the night. 

Kirk's words reverberated in his mind, they pushed on his nerves and eroded his sense of calm. 

For the first time he considered the notion that he wasn't familiar with what he really wanted. But at the same time, he knew Kirk wasn't either.


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn't until Spock reached the lodge that he realized he had an adjoining room with Jim Kirk. This fact made his stomach twist and tighten. He couldn't explain it, but for some reason he wanted to be as far away from his captain as possible right now.

It was already late by the time the vulcan reached his room. He decided to take a shower and have some soup before sitting down on his bed and pulling out his PADD. Despite the fact that this was intended to be a "vacation" of sorts, he still felt compelled to be at least somewhat productive. So Spock flipped through files, read reports, signed off on some documents and played virtual chess when he finished.

With every half hour that passed, he grew more and more agitated. Although he managed to get a decent amount of work done, the vulcan kept peering at the time on his PADD. 

His hearing was superb, and he had yet to hear Jim Kirk return from the club. Time dragged on in the silent room.

Three more hours passed and then he finally heard it - the sound of the portal to Jim's room swoosh open. Scarcely breathing, Spock listened intently. He could hear Jim's footsteps, the door closing, the sound of water being poured into a pod, a heavy sigh.

Spock found his legs moving of their own accord. He swung from his bed and walked to the wall that separated the two men. In coming close to the door that parted the rooms, the portal beeped and Jim let him in.

"Yes Spock," he said flatly, not even looking in the Vulcan's direction. Spock's mouth opened but no words seemed to want to come out. Jim was facing his bed, folding the shirt he was going to wear tomorrow. 

"Did you come here to scold me about how late I'm getting in?" Jim asked, venom dripping from his words. 

Spock still didn't answer. Jim turned suddenly, and looked into Spock's eyes. "Or maybe you came to find out what happened with me and Vlick?" he smiled coyly. 

"I would assume that you did not engage in coitus with Vlick, since you are now here," Spock said factually. 

The glib smile fell off of Jim's face.

"You're right, nothing happened," Jim's voice dropped an octave out of disappointment.

"Why did nothing happen?" Spock inquired, tilting his head slightly.

"I don't really think that's any of your business," Jim shot back. 

Spock nodded. 

"Now that I'm sufficiently sexually frustrated, I think I'll take a shower," Jim said, his smile returning as he brushed past Spock to head to the bathroom. But Spock caught his arm in an iron grip. 

"I considered what you had said earlier," Spock nearly whispered to Jim, their faces close. "You were right captain, I do not know what I really want for the future. But I do know what I want now…"

"And what's that?" Jim asked breathlessly, his body twisted close to his first officer.

"I want to join you in the shower."


End file.
